Hour 2
Stacy's eyes were slowly opening again. When she was finally awake, she
looked around, hoping that she would find the beach, the surf, and her
sister just as it had been only hours ago. Unfortunately, her nightmare
was real, and the beach was but a memory.
She took stock of her current situation. Still in the blood-soaked
dungeon, she was hanging by the wrists, metal chains digging into her
tender flesh. As she looked below, she noticed her toes were above the
gray floor by several inches.
How long have I been hanging like this, she wondered. The aching in her
wrists was awful, and breathing seemed more difficult in this position.
Examining her size 36C breasts, she was reminded of her earlier torture:
the hooks. The hooks had been removed, not carefully removed, but
rather, ripped from her body.
The tears in both breasts left ugly traces of red, and her left
breast---where a thicker hook had invaded---lost a small chunk of meat.
Apparently, her unknown assailant had sewn the wound in order to stop
the profuse bleeding; Stacy was grateful to have been unconscious for
that needle work on her breast.
Lost in her own terror, she almost didn't hear the loud footsteps
reenter the cell. Through the shadows and light, Stacy tried to get a
look at the tormentor. Just as he came into focus, he yanked on her
long brown hair, causing her neck to crane uncomfortably backward.
He took the bulk of her beautiful hair and held it tight, forming a
virtual rope. He pulled her mane to a D-ring bolted into the wall and
tied her hair roughly around the ring. He tested the knot with a few
jerks and was satisfied that she was secured. The strain on her neck
muscles was fantastic; Stacy was forced to stare at the ceiling. With
this angle she could also she the lacerations in her wrists where the
metal shackles had cut into her.
How much blood have I lost? Who is this mad man and why is he doing
this to me? And what happened to my sister? Is Kim okay? Oh, God, why
me?
Stacy heard the ominous sound of metal snapping on metal. She was
beginning to panic again. Her gorgeous body was alive with fear and
soaked in blood and sweat. She tried to move her head but it was
impossible to look down very far.
Roughly he grabbed her jaw and forced open her mouth. With a pair of
metal forceps the tormentor snapped on to her tongue. The clamping
action of the forcep was instant and the desire to scream was muffled by
the odd position her tongue was forced to take.
He let go of the forcep briefly and allowed the heavy clamp to weigh the
tongue down; Stacy's throbbing tongue hung out the side of her mouth
while the tormentor continued his work. He held a long sewing needle
next to her eye, just as a preview. Stacy started to thrash around
again, but he held her firmly.
With the forcep, he extended the tongue and simultaneously pierced it
with the enormous needle. The pain was blinding for Stacy, but not
enough to make her pass out. He attached a thick ring, three times as
think as a normal wedding band, and slid the needle then the ring
through her tongue. Finally, he clicked the piercing ring together and
released the forcep.
Stacy wasn't allowed much time to register the new sensation in her
sensitive tongue. The tormentor continued to work at his torture. Next
he drew a chain from the opposite side wall, attached on one end to a
D-ring, and attached the other end to her new tongue ring. There was
virtually no slack in the chain. Her tongue was stretched to the limit
forward and her head was stretched to the limt backward, leaving her
mouth wide open, wanting to scream but quite unable.
As the coup de grace, the tormentor held a gallon jug up to Stacy's
eyes. He held it long enough for her to read the scribbling on the
label: "Male Sperm, One Gallon, Keep Refrigerated." He swished it
around a little bit, then popped the top off.
Stacy wanted to die. Anything but that, don't make me drink that!
Please, Oh. God , No!
She tried to beg but the words wouldn't form with her tongue stretched
out so far. Slowly, he leaned the jug over her lips and poured the
contents down her throat. Stacy couldn't close her mouth; she had no
choice but to swallow as fast as it was forced down her throat.
Swallow or drown.
The smell was making her sick. The salty taste was bearable in small
quantities from her boyfriend's cock, but this was hell. Ounze after
salty ounze, he poured his sperm jug down her throat, filling her
stomach. Stacy was feeling the urge to throw up, but he just wouldn't
let up. She had no idea how much a gallon really was until now.
Finally, she felt the last drops trickle down her throat. One Gallon,
one whole gallon of cold sperm had made its way down her gullet. AT the
thought of this, her stomach began to convulse and she knew she was
about to vomit. Her tormentor suddenly reached for the chain stretching
her tongue and jerked on it, tearing her tongue and ripping out the new
ring. Quickly, he took duct tape and sealed her agonized mouth.
Stacy passed out a second time.
End of part two
